At that moment, the little black dog, weary of looking at the cupboard, approached Tom and flopped down beside him.

“And that’s her dog,” said Everychild musingly.

“He’s mine, really,” explained Tom, “though I always try to think of him as hers.  You take a fellow like me and he’d rather not own a dog.  He has to go out into the world sooner or later; and if he has a dog he keeps thinking about him when he’s away, and about there not being any one to put water in his bowl, and open the gate for him or go with him for a run.  A dog likes to be with you, you know; and when you’re gone you keep seeing him all the while:  waiting at the gate for you, or outside your door.  And you know all the time that some day when you’re gone he’ll grow old at last, and lie alone dreaming of you, and looking—­while there’s none but strangers by to spurn him.  No, sometimes I think it’s better not to have a dog for a friend.”

Everychild was thinking about this when Tom suddenly reached for his hat, which he had placed by his side.  “Perhaps we’d better be getting along,” he said, “without waiting to tell her good-by.  After all, there’s no telling when she’ll be here.”

Everychild did not like to go without having seen Old Mother Hubbard; but there seemed no way to suggest this, and he was just rising to his feet when there was a bustling sound outside the door.

“She’s coming now,” said Tom in a whisper.  “She’ll be here right away.”  He was dreadfully uneasy.  He added in a tone of apology, “Just make the best of it, won’t you, if she’s ugly?  It will blow over in a minute or two.”

And then the front door was opened briskly and Old Mother Hubbard entered the room.

CHAPTER XIII

A TERRIBLE LADY AT HOME

She came into the room in the manner of one who was about to say, “Fellow-citizens!” But she said nothing just at first.  She took a few steps further, walking as if she expected to have a badge pinned on her, or to receive a prize.  She had a double chin; and when she began to speak, which she did a moment later, it developed that she had a deep baritone voice.

Her first words were:  “Away with you!”

They were for the little black dog, who had rushed toward her with swaying tail.

Then she saw her son and Everychild. She sniffed as if there were a fire somewhere as she said to her son, “And who is this, pray?"

[Illustration:  She sniffed as if there were a fire somewhere.]

Everychild would have felt almost alarmed but for the fact that something extraordinary occurred just then.  The Masked Lady entered the room and stood just inside the door.  Still more remarkable, Mr. Literal appeared just behind her.

“This,” replied Tom to his mother, “is—­is a boy who came home with me.”

“Is it, indeed!” exclaimed Old Mother Hubbard icily.  She added, “What I meant to inquire was.  What is his name?”